Sun, 10/08/2017 - 20:32 -- liduval

the soft tapping 
of an eggshell on a countertop
brings me to a place that I never thought I would be

sitting in a refrigerator
moved and touched
on a scratchy carpet 
I direct the west to the north and settle on a cushion

the membrane beneath
my porcelain exterior
is open to the world
being prodded at with toothpicks

at a loss for words
I rediscover who I am 
what more I can do
and my thoughts become clogged by the fluorescent lights

I shield my eyes
attempting to speak up
because I am more than my anxiety 
but the bitter feeling is leaking out and leaving me microwaved

it can’t happen now
there are songs to be sang
but I can feel the impending, anxious fever
and my body has been boiled for too long

I am scrambled and feverish
at a loss for words
though I need to communicate that I need help 
or that I need to lock myself in the smallest space available

my world is spinning
shards of shell stuck in my skin
and though the tears on my face threaten “hard-boiled”
a soufflé that is watched will never rise

I don’t like this shade of pink
or the way my yolk has broken
spreading across the tile floor
because I am far more seen than I had expected to be

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741